


Lost Voices

by BluBooThalassophile



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluBooThalassophile/pseuds/BluBooThalassophile
Summary: He just wants to go home, but he's not leaving without that baby! She just wants to get away, somehow they've ended up on the run, together with a baby.Naturally there's a miscommunication for two with the lack of communication.





	1. Why...

He stared out at the night, alone, the desert chill sliced through him. He watched the ship fly away, _why were they leaving? Why were… Why was…?_ Panic clawed at throat watching the red ship being engulfed in the night.

**_ Why Were They Leaving Him!? _ **

**_ Who Were They!? _ **

“Gray…Grayson!” his tongue whispered desperately. **_Don’t leave me! Don’t forget me!_** His mind screamed as his mouth wouldn’t give him speech. Why were they leaving him!?

As quick as the thought had come it vanished, and a soft mewl grabbed his attention as he focused on breathing again. His charge was safe, that was all which mattered to him as he looked at the baby.

“They will be back,” the woman spoke, his gaze was on the babe in her arms, sleeping soundly. Since waking it was his charge, his ward, the babe was his to care for. Demon’s Head had entrusted the babe to him, he would not fail.

“They will not,” Ra’s voice was level, icy calm as he turned to him. The babe opened it’s blue eyes, and something warm stirred in his chest as the woman neared him. her hand slid over his brow, then removed his goggles and the mask was slid off as her fingers traced his jaw kindly.

“You did well.” She murmured as she kissed his cheek.

He said nothing as he stared at the baby in her arms. Those blue eyes, they made his heart warm up. It was a whisper of a memory there, which had his brow furrowing. He didn’t belong here.

He wanted to go home…

* * *

 

The preparations were set and he smiled as he stared at the preparations of the candles laid out before them. It was all set, the groom was all which they were awaiting as the incantations old as time itself were spoken, the smoke swirled in the circle, and he watched in hopeful awe as the smoke swirled and then there was a gasp as lithe form scrambled out of the smoke, gasping as the body twisted around, knocking the bride down. He rushed forward to help their lord, but gasped in pain as the skin was too hot, searing his hand.

The bride was dead on the ground, he could see that from the strange angle her head was, however, the body atop the bride’s pushed itself up, staggering a step and his breath caught in his lungs.

There was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes up.

The lithe body was female, rather fragile in appearance. Her hair was endless ebony as the smoke and shadows settled, her skin was ivory, her features were rather stunning as her large dark eyes fell on them, she stepped away, however he caught her out stretched hand. That body…

It was slim, fragile, almost like a ballerina, her breasts were small, her stomach toned, the dark thatch of curls between her legs covered her sex, her hips were wide, and her legs… they were gloriously curved and strong.

“I name you Rachel, and you shall be my wife,” he spoke as he pulled her to him, the girl stumbled against him, he jerked her chin up and kissed her hard. Draping a cloak around her as the congregation cheered. “You will be a lovely bearer of destruction,” he mused.

The girl stared at him in shock, and the bridesmaids rushed the girl as he released her.

“I will see her in my chambers,” he promised. “Prepare her.”

“Father Blood,” Mother Mayhem came to him.

“See to it that Rachel is comfortable, I will take a few days to get to know my wife,” he said softly to his courtesan as he walked away.

* * *

 

Raven was very confused as she stumbled with the women, a cloak fluttered off her body as she staggered into a room unlike any she had ever seen.

It had been forever since she’d been dragged to hell by her father, since she had destroyed Azarath, and the endless fighting had drained her, however she was alive. The best. The strongest. She had just been…

Her brow furrowed as she remembered her last battle.

The brimstone and fires were hot, her father… he’d been there, and so had… so had her brothers. Her brothers had come to kill her, and she had…

Raven looked down at her naked form.

Where was her armor?

‘That’s enough girl, it is time for you to learn you place!’ a voice had snarled, and then there’d been chanting and a blinding hit of light which had knocked her down… then there was that short, little man with red eyes, and…

Raven’s head snapped over when a hand touched her bare shoulder and she bared her teeth. The female yelped as she stumbled away and fell on the ground. Raven couldn’t feel her powers! She couldn’t feel the darkness or her magic. Panic welled up as she looked around her, and the women were cowering by a bowl of steam, and Raven trembled hesitantly before she took a step forward for the steam.

What was going on? Why was she here? Where was her magic? Her strength? Her armor? Her power? She hated this feeling, it made her feel exposed, vulnerable. However, that scent was enticing, reminding her of something from Azarath, when her mother would braid her hair, and sing her mystic tunes to speak to the spirits. It made her think of kinder times as she walked forward. There were flowers in the bath, and her eyes flicked up at the trembling attendants.

A bath.

It had been forever since she had had one, and she could feel the grime of her father’s hell clinging to her skin. Slowly, and hesitantly she walked up the steps and waded into the water, not moaning at the bliss it was, but rather watching her attendants carefully.

They all stared at her in horror and Raven accepted that as a good sign that they’d stay back, away from her, she let herself sink below the surface feeling ten years of grim blacken the waters.


	2. A Whisper of a Memory

Raven had accepted the flimsy tunic they had given her, her arms were bare, and her back was exposed, however it was dry and the material was soft. She pulled her long hair around to brush and braid, feeling it clean of blood, grime, and ash for the first time, it felt like silk and tangled effortlessly in her fingers. However, it gave way to her braiding it. She was concerned not feeling her magic at her hands or feeling the darkness, but she refused to give into the panic which claws on her heart at this powerlessness. She was not so weak.

The room she was in was rather spacious, the tiles were clean, and the bed rested on a platform. The table had colorful orbs on it, she took them to be food with how flies flocked to it, though it smelled nothing like carnage. Lifting a red one to her lips she sniffed it, it smelled sweet and clean before she hesitantly sunk her teeth into it, the juices were rich, clear and the white of the fruit was sweet and tangy, she loved it as she walked through the room. There was a descend where the massive tub was, and out the doors was a balcony. Raven couldn't figure out what this was, even as she ventured between the doors, taking another bite of the fruit. Her eyes roamed over the vastness of where she was.

A frown pulled at her lips as she stared at the mountains. This was not Azarath, and staring at the dying stars, she didn't recognize the starfield she was under. The sun was rising though, breaking through the mountains, which was an indicator of the morning. She took that as a good starting point for figuring our where she was. There was heat, she could feel it starting, and then there was the cool of the morning which was cutting through her, so she could assume she was not in autumn or winter.

Turning she continued into the room, she hated this, not knowing where she was. The problem was her powers, she didn't feel them, which was concerning. Scary. This was the first time in her memorable life that she didn't have them, and she didn't like feeling so disconnected with herself. Finishing the fruit, she set the core of it on the table, and looked over the furnishings of the room. The rumble of the door had her grabbing up one of the sticks holding a candle, it was heavy enough to do damage, she could see that as the door opened fully and the man walked in.

He was small, with white hair, her size really, there was nothing menacing about his presence, she recognized him as the man who had pressed his mouth to hers, and draped a cloak around her.

" _I see you are clean_ ," he spoke in a language she didn't recognize the language he spoke as he circled her, Raven was careful to keep something between them as he moved. Her eyes never left his.

"Where am I?" she demanded, her voice graveled and raspy after years of disuse; but her mother tongue was never forgotten in her heart, so she chose her words carefully.

The lack of recognition on this face told her that he didn't know what she had said. Raven frowned at that, her hair fell in her eyes, but she ignored that as she kept her eyes trained on the man. He smiled, almost reassuringly, however everything in her was screaming not to let her guard down yet. This was not her world, this was not her situation, she was not in control, she didn't like that feeling as she walked around the table.

" _You must be hungry_ ," the man spoke again in his strange tongue, then he clapped his hands, the doors opened and in walked the women. There were platters, Raven didn't release her weapon as she moved out of their reaches. Something delicious wafted through the air, her stomach snarled, she didn't move towards the platters though as they were set down and set around the area of the table. Her eyes never left the man's, he smiled, rather kindly, however everything in her was screaming this wasn't right.

" _Please, have a seat let us eat_ ," he said as the servants bowed and left. Raven's eyes flicked over the table, at the servants, then back to the man. She hated not feeling anything around, she hated not feeling the magic or the darkness, what the hell had happened to her? The man pulled out a seat and gestured for her to come here, to sit? Raven hesitated when her hunger won out and she cautiously walked forward, towards the food. Her eyes narrowed when the man reached for the weapon she had. " _You can trust me, I am your husband_ ," he smiled kindly. Raven frowned as she reluctantly let go of the weapon and took a seat, he pushed the seat in a bit.

"What are you after?" She wondered as she watched him seat himself across from her. Raven's eyes narrowed on him dangerously as he smiled and started serving the food.

Raven's immediate issues, she had no powers, her connections with everything felt severed, and she for the life of her, could pull on the darkness and shadows she relied so heavily upon when she'd been in home. Never had such a severing of her abilities happened to her, not even as a child. As a child she had never been disconnected; everything was amplified in a way, and tripled in hell, now there was nothing; everything was silent. It bothered her. Greatly.

She snarled a bit when the man leaned over to fill her plate, she gripped his wrist when he reached to touch her.

" **Do Not Touch Me** ," she growled lowly, feeling the lack of fuel from her own rage.

" _Trust me, I'm your husband, Rachel_ ," he said it.

She shoved his hand away from her face.

* * *

He sat in the grass of the gardens watching the child as the baby lay sleepily on his blanket. He had his weapon propped on his shoulder and he watched in fascination at the babe's curiosity of the butterfly fluttering over his head.

"He spoke last night," The Demon's Head voice lulled behind him.

"He makes noises."

"He remembered."

"Impossible, even the Pit could not heal his mind."

"If I had not heard it myself I would not have believed it."

"Jason," Talia slid beside him, her fingers slid through his scalp, he did not remove his eyes from the baby but blinked at her presence being so near. "Jason, who are you?" she asked.

He wanted to open his mouth to move his tongue but he couldn't, he couldn't even remember who had called him Jason. He tried to frown, trying to conjure a memory or something, but he couldn't; there was nothing there.

 ** _They left me!_**  His mind whispered, his hands tightened on the sheath against his shoulder and he trembled at the thought.  _Who had left him? Who? Did it matter? Did anyone care about him?_

 ** _No_**. He was here.

He was here to guard the baby, who had rolled onto his stomach when he wasn't paying him attention and was slowly dragging himself forward, to him. He felt his lips twitch as the child pulled himself over the grass.

"Damian," Talia sighed.

"Da…" he said slowly, his tongue feeling thick and slack. The baby was on his knee, pulling himself up, and about to roll, Jason caught him effortlessly and righted the babe to sit in his lap. Damian stared owlishly up at him, Jason stared back.

"He can't even speak, father," Talia sighed, her fingers toying with his scalp as she stood and he felt her leave.

Jason just stared at the baby, they were in this together. No, that wasn't right…

Damian did not belong here, just as he did not belong here. But where did they belong?

 _Home_ , his mind whispered. That was not illuminating to him as he lifted his hand and let it be Damian's play toy. Where did he belong? Did anyone know he was here? No. They had left him. Who had left him though? He could remember that, it was this nagging sensation in the back of his mind.

Since the black figure with a blue slash over his chest.

He should know who that was. And they should never have left him. But who was that?

The frustrations from these thoughts were heating up his blood, and he could feel a nasty acidic green tinge taking his view, so he looked down at the baby. Damian was chomping on his finger, and Jason focused on the baby, because the baby needed him. He was here to protect the baby, the baby was all that mattered. Damian glared up at him as he bit as hard as he could on his finger. Jason just let him; the child couldn't hurt him. Nothing could really hurt him.

* * *

Dick sat in Gotham, in his and Babs' loft, staring at the never relenting rain.

"What's the matter?" she asked him, rolling towards him.

"Oh, nothing really," he chuckled. "Ra's said he wasn't the Demon's Head anymore, and he'd turned away from the Light."

"Ra's, turning from secrets and power?" she said in bafflement.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, and something else… there was… there was a guy there," Dick started.

"Ooo!" she chimed in. "Someone prettier than you?"

"Babs!" he chuckled.

"Okay, okay, in all seriousness," she mused. "What about this guy?"

"I don't know it was… he was, I don't know, almost familiar. How he was moving, and the way he was so icy calm, it was, unsettling," he decided. There'd been ice where there should've been fire; it was the only way he could describe it, but he didn't know what he was trying to describe.

"Familiar how?"

"I don't know," Dick admitted. "There's… there's this nagging feeling in my mind I knew him, that I should take him with us, but then he was so different."

"Did you see his face?"

"No, but he was good Babs, like Ra's good; honest, if I took the guy one on one he'd cut me down no problem, only reason I didn't get my ass handed to me was because I don't think he was trying."

"What?"

"Yeah, his attacks, they… okay, this is going to be really weird, but just hear me out; it was like there was ice where there was supposed to be fire when fighting him." Dick couldn't describe it, the guy was scary good, never even flinching when an attack from Jefferson was thrown at him, or wavering at an action the team did. It was like he knew all their moves; he was unphased by the new players; and it was… it was unsettling.

"Maybe you should talk to B about it?" Babs offered softly.

"I… look, there's something weirder; the guy was on Ra's inner circle, and I don't know, I just didn't think he was all that old."

"Maybe he's Ra's son?" she offered.

"I doubt it, I just, the nagging feeling in my gut is that we should've taken him with us, not left him with Ra's. And I know that's crazy, because the guy's gotta be lethal to be on Ra's inner circle; like the best of the best of the best of the best kind of stuff, and I don't know," he looked at his hands. "I feel like I let that guy down again. Which is weird cause I swear I don't know him," he looked at Babs then.

"Dick, there is no shame in compassion for the enemy, but that guy; whoever he is, he's not a lost puppy, and you didn't leave him behind. He's not one of us," Barbara stated.

"I know that, Babs, really, and that's kind of why it's bugging me," he muttered.

* * *

Bruce sat in his study, he was looking at an old photo album, the one before Jay died, and he couldn't stop flicking through the images of him and his boy. It was so long ago, and yesterday, all at once, and Bruce dreaded forgetting this. Forgetting Jason.

"Hey B, I was looking at our portfolio and I was thinking that we could cut some of the public relations funding to go to the revamping schools project," Tim walked in; his hair pulled up by a purple scrunchie.

"Tim," Bruce sighed at the sight of his disaster child. Tim's shirt was on backwards, and he was wearing one of Jason's old seaters; which despite Jay's tiny size was still too big for Tim's lean frame, and his jeans were stuffed in socks. How did this child function? There was a coffee mug in the other hand and the steam coiled in the air.

"Hm?" Tim looked up, bleary and tired, and Bruce sighed shutting his photo album and putting it on his desk. Taking the tablet and coffee from Tim he nudge his son for his room.

"What?"

"You need rest."

"I'm fine!" Tim protested trying to grab the tablet and the coffee B was holding out of his reach.

"Bed, now, we will talk WE tomorrow at breakfast."

"What about patrol!?"

"Not tonight," Bruce stated.

"Fine," Tim grumbled as he stalked off, and Bruce shook his head in amusement then.

Once he was sure Tim was asleep he sat down and started reading over the papers, and sighed as his own head fell back. It'd been too long, too long since Jason's death; and Bruce didn't know why the thought was nagging at him right now, merely that it was. Today he had thought he had heard Jason in the office.

'You look like shit old-man.' He had looked up and almost sworn he could see Jason standing there tall, lean, with a wild case of bedhead curls, and a crooked grin. The image though was a hallucination and revealed to be the intern who was asking if he was alright; the Bowery so thick in his voice it had made Bruce remember his son.

He had nodded his head and walked off before he could have a mental break down. The kid didn't deserve to witness that.

Jason would be nineteen; Bruce kind of wondered if Jason would have settled on Harvard or Princeton. Would he still love literature or would he have gone for engineering; like B thought he would. Jason loved tinkering. Getting up Bruce walked to Jason's old room, he hesitated outside the door before he slowly walked in.

Everything was exactly like it was, pristine and clean, put away; because Jason was notoriously organized. Everything was exactly where Jason had left it, including the essay he'd been writing on Alexander Dumas, which Bruce had read a thousand times. There was a hidden stash of stale cigarettes, and Jason's 'thinking baseball' which he played with when his hands needed to be busy.

He'd be nineteen now.

What would he be like?

* * *

Jason walked the compound mindlessly, Damian snug against his chest and in his arms; Jason hadn't let go of the kid. He did not know what to do, just that the kid was sleeping, and moving kept the kid calm and asleep. There were voices the next room which had him pausing as he looked into the room.

The men there were laughing at the screen, the afternoon sun was sweltering, and he hesitantly walked in; soundlessly, hiding behind the guards; Damian drooled on his tunic.

The television was playing, and he tried to pay attention to the images, but they hurt his eyes so he looked at the baby as he listened. He was always listening.

'…Today in Istanbul, there was an attack of Joker Gas killing three thousand people, the organization taking responsibility sent this video, viewers be warned it is graphic…'

"Hello World!" that voice had his head snapping up as the world stilled and his breathing quickened; every limited to the desire to flee, and he ran.

**_Time to leave! Time to run! Go home! B! B would save him! B would keep them safe!_ **

**_They weren't safe! Even here!_**  Jason wasn't staying. He glanced at the baby, and his heart quickened at the angry cry from the baby. The baby, he had to keep the baby safe, B would keep them safe, Jason was going!

**_He had to leave!_ **

**_They had left him!_ **

**_He was going home!_**  Running the labyrinth of the compound he took to the walls, staring down at the city.

" ** _JASON!_** " a voice screamed, he didn't stop as he leapt down the wall, wrapping his arms securely around Damian as they rolled in the dirt.

He had to get away! Get them safe! Get home! B! He ran away from the city, towards the river, never slowing, he heard people behind him, and he kept his arms secure around Damian, panic didn't allow him to look behind, even as he heard the roar of engines. He felt something hit his shoulder, knocking him off his feet, he tucked around Damian rolling in the dust as he surged to his feet and found himself surrounded by four of his keepers.

 ** _No_**.

He had to get away! Get safe! Get home! B! B would keep him safe! The first one leapt off his bike, Jason spun around, kicking him in the ribs and sending him colliding into another. He shoved his forward attack into the dust as Jason leapt over him and to the bike.

Instinct had him kicking up the kickstand, and his arm was secured around Damian and full throttal was hit as he lowered himself to the bike and sped away from there fast as he could.

**_He had to get away._ **

**_Home._ **

**_Safe._ **

**_They left him!_ **

He'd find them, they'd save him. They would…

They had left him though. But they couldn't stay here not with the Joker so close! He had to get away, get safe, get home, get to B!


End file.
